


Unavoidable

by Almaren



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dean Has Realizations, First Kiss, M/M, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-28
Updated: 2016-02-28
Packaged: 2018-05-23 18:49:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6126637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Almaren/pseuds/Almaren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Sam have always been close. Close enough that they know everything about each other. But when Dean accidentally discovers something new about Sam... well, maybe it was just unavoidable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unavoidable

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [Bitterberry](http://archiveofourown.org/users/bitterberry) for making me want to finish this.

Dean knew everything about his brother. Growing up the way they did, it was unavoidable. They spent half their time cooped up in the backseat of the car, playing with Sam’s army men or playing I-Spy. They spent the other half of the time in whatever random hotel or house they were staying in that week, almost always sharing a room and usually a bed.

As they got older, after Dad let them get a hotel room to themselves- mainly so he could have space away from the two of them- they still spent all of their time within twenty feet of each other. Despite having two beds, Dean couldn’t count the number of times that he had fallen asleep next to Sam in one bed or another after a late night of drinking and movies. On cases, they were constantly watching out for each other, never letting the other out of their sight for more than a minute. And even though they tried to keep to the unspoken rule of staying out of each other’s duffels, they both could list the contents of their brother’s bag easily.

Truly, the only privacy either of them had was in the bathroom, and even that was hard to come by. It never failed that just when one of them was in the shower, the other would desperately need to piss, or worse, and eventually they just quit bothering to lock the door to save the other the hassle of picking it. They’ve seen each other naked, jacking off, having sex. It was just unavoidable.

It changed, of course, when Sam went away to college. A lot can change in four years, and they developed new habits. For a few weeks, they stumbled around each other, feeling out their relationship all over again. But the closeness overcame them quickly, and after being together again for so long, Dean thought he could once again say he knew everything about his brother.

He knew that Sam always tried to eat healthy because of the fact that so much of their childhood had consisted of junk food. No one had ever told Sam that he couldn’t have dessert until he finished his veggies, or that eating pizza eight times in one week isn’t that great on the ol’ digestive system. Eating healthy became yet another part of Sam’s life that he could control, that he could make ‘normal’. And as with everything Sam did, he took it to the extreme, ordering salad for every meal and working out constantly. He took pride in the fact that neither Dean nor Dad could complain- after all, it made him a better hunter.

He knew that Sam usually took a long shower, but if it ran over thirty minutes, it meant that his younger brother was jerking off. He even knew just by the sound, Sam would move slightly out of the spray of the water, and if Dean didn’t turn up the TV loud enough or if the room had particularly thin walls, he could sometimes hear his brother’s moans over the sound of the water.

He knew what type of porn was Sam’s favorite, what type of underwear he wore, what his shirt size was, what he looked for in a woman, what his favorite book was for fucks sake. He knew everything about his brother.

Or at least he thought he did. At the moment, standing in the doorway to the motel room, lights still flashing through the moonlit doorway as cars drove past outside, as Dean stared down at his brother in absolute shock, nothing but instinct making him keep his grip on the keys and six pack he held in his right hand, suddenly he wasn’t so sure he knew his brother at all. Dean’s left hand came up to grip the edge of the door tightly, balancing himself.

“Sam?” He managed, knowing before he said it that it was stupid. Sam already knew he was there, he was scrambling for the covers, yanking them up over his body, trying desperately to cover up what Dean had already seen, what he couldn’t stop seeing.

How Dean would ever erase the sight of his brother, back arching ever so off the bed, head tipped back, mouth open as he gasped for breath, sweat dripping down his sleek chest, one hand working his cock as the other, oh god, the other between his legs, his fingers filling him up, stretching him, his hips pushing down against his own fingers, the fucking sound of Dean’s name, moaned out from Sam’s lips. How could Dean ever forget that?

“Dean” Sam said, the one simple word sounded so fucking shattered. It was an accusation, an excuse, an apology, a thousand fucking things at once and Dean swallowed hard, looking down at his younger brother’s face. Sam stared back at him nervously, obviously not knowing what to say, but knowing that he had to say something, anything to break the tension that had built up over the room in the past minute since Dean had barged in. “Fuck Dean. Shut the door, man.”

Dean gave a nod, stepping inside the room slowly. He turned to push the door shut behind him, then to drop the six pack and keys on the table nearby, before turning slowly back to Sam. Sam had the covers pulled up to his chin, staring up at his brother in what could almost be fear.

Dean was reeling. He knew everything about Sam. Everything. How could he not have known this? All the times that he heard Sam jerking off before, hell that he’d _seen_ Sam jerking off before- this was not by far the first time he’d walked in on his brother- how did he never know that Sam liked to finger himself? That Sam fantasized about _him_ , called his name out in that fucking wrecked voice, begging Dean for more like it was Dean, Dean who had his fingers inside of him, stretching him out, getting ready to fuck him?

He stared at Sam, and Sam stared back at him, locked in a stalemate of tension filled silence that neither was willing to break. They both knew, all tòo well, that they were standing on the edge of a knife. Stray but a little, and they’d fall. If Dean reacted the wrong way, it would be the end of everything. Of their friendship, of their family, of their hunting together. And how could Sam and Dean live without being Sam-and-Dean? They’d done it once before, for four fucking years, and Dean couldn’t, wouldn’t go back.

And why should he? It was obvious, now, how Sam felt. He had somehow never thought about it before, but it was obvious as hell now. Sam had always been a little on the touchy-feely side. A hand on Dean’s shoulder that lasted a second too long, a glance out of the corner of his eye, a smile that was reserved for Dean and no one else. Even though Dean had never thought of it before, never even considered the idea, never knew anything about this side of his little brother, it was suddenly so clear.

Sam was in love with him. He always had been. No one, not Dad, not Bobby, not the few girls that had come in and out of Sam’s life, no one had gotten the smiles, the jokes, the little gestures and the sarcastic wit that Dean was accustomed too. No one got Sam, the real Sam, no one but Dean. And suddenly, Dean realized that on some level, he had known, all along, he had always known about his brother's feelings, and his own.

There was no one, no girl, no man, no one, that could ever compare to Sam. There was nothing but his Sammy, and Dean knew, that somehow, all of their lives had just brought them to this. Sam had loved him, and he had loved Sam, and now, now they could start the rest of their lives, together, finally.

Dean broke the silence, shattered the tension in the room with a single _Sammy_ , that one word that said so many things. It said _I love you_ , and _I’m sorry_ , and _don’t ever leave me_ , and _fuck, I need you so bad_ and so many more things, things that neither brother would or could say, saying so much and not enough all at once, and before the pieces of that shattered silence could even hit the ground, Dean was moving.

He crossed the room in seconds, kicking off his boots as he went, shucking his jacket and tossing it to some other part of the room blindly. Jumping onto the bed, he dropped on top of Sam, fingers of his left hand grabbing onto the blanket that hid his brother’s body, the other reaching up to grab Sam’s hair, and then they were kissing. Sam’s hands reached up and grabbed onto Dean’s shoulders, pulling him closer and holding him tight, clinging to him as they kissed desperately, tongues pressing together as if they could make up for so many years of lost time in a single kiss.

They kissed for minutes, they kissed for ages, they kissed until Dean’s mind was nothing but a whirl of Sam, Sam, SAM, until he could think of nothing else because this, a single kiss from the man he would die for, this was so much more than all the women he had ever had sex with put together. They kissed until they just couldn’t anymore, and even then they stayed together, breathing into each other's faces in a way that was completely non-romantic and yet was the most loving thing either ever knew.

Dean moved down, kissing at Sam’s neck eagerly. He knew his brother, knew that the spot behind his ear made him turn to jelly, the spot where his shoulder met made his voice go up an octave, the spot right below his Adam’s apple made him groan, long and deep, and yet he didn’t know it at all. It was all new now, all for him this time. He wasn’t seeing it as an outsider, walking in on his baby brother necking with some bimbo, this time _he_ was the one drawing those noises from his Sammy, it was all him, and Dean couldn’t fucking control himself as he bit down, sucking a mark into Sam’s neck as his brother clung to him, arching into him.

The blanket was pulled away, and Dean started a mission to kiss down Sam’s chest, to learn his brother in this whole new way. It was a compulsion, he had to know it all. Every spot that made Sam groan, and shudder, and fucking whimper, arch into him and rub against him, he had to know it all, he had to learn his Sammy like no one else could ever hope to.

All too soon he was pulled away from Sam, by Sam himself as the younger tried desperately to yank Dean’s shirts off, pull them over his head. Dean quickly saw the reward in that plan, and helped Sam, yanking his shirts off and chucking them to the side of the room. He groaned, suddenly realizing that Sam knew him just as well as he knew Sam, as those long fingers went straight to his ribs, scratching down his side ever-so-gently in the way that drove Dean insane. Those fingers reached his waist, and Dean was all too quick to help shuck his pants, leaving him naked on top of Sam, _his_ Sam.

Suddenly they were touching, nothing between them. All the layers that they kept between them, the physical and the emotional, they were all gone. There was no brotherly banter to keep them from getting to close, no punch to the shoulder as a warning not to probe too deep, nothing but the feel of Sam, all of Sam, arching up against him.

They groaned together as they met for the first time, and Sam was bucking up against his older brother, grinding against him. Dean pushed his hips back down, feeling the sweet friction of his cock next to Sam’s, and they were kissing again, lips, tongues and teeth clashing against one another all too desperately. They pressed together, unwilling to let so much as air come between them, they kissed like the world would end tomorrow, and maybe it would, but damnit, they’d have this tonight.

They touched. Dean’s fingers curled through Sam’s hair, pressed against his cheek, ran down the line of his neck, felt his shoulders, his chest, his stomach, his thighs. All of Sam, the Sam he knew so well by sight, but never by touch, not until now. He felt as though he had been kept in the dark all his life, and now someone had finally turned on the light switch and he was relearning everything in a whole new way. He was so focused on Sam, on the way his stomach trembled when he slid his fingers along his sides and the way he gasped into Dean’s mouth when he tweaked at his nipples, that he almost missed the fact that Sam was touching back.

Those large hands that he knew so well, that he had seen wielding a knife, a gun, choking a demon and wrapped around a beer bottle, those hands he had seen all his life, they were touching him. Running down his back, feeling his shoulders, his spine, running over the top of his ass and down, grazing his thighs before coming back up, around to press against his chest, to feel all of Dean like he was feeling Sam, and neither could get enough.

He could have kept going forever, laying there and touching Sam while they rubbed against each other, pressing their lips together even after they couldn’t possibly kiss any longer and just breathed against one another. Dean would have been happy to do nothing else but touch his little brother forever, until suddenly Sam was pulling away, a whimper breaking through the room that he wasn’t quite sure who it came from. Sam just gripped his shoulder with one hand, reaching the other up and away, leaning his body away from Dean to fumble on the nightstand for a second, before he was pressing something into Dean’s hand, an urgentness to his movements.

Any doubt as to what Sam had just given to him was erased from Dean’s mind as Sam spread his legs, opening himself up so Dean could reach all of him. He gazed up at his brother, eyes innocent and dirty, trusting and daring, loving and lusting, and Dean suddenly wasn’t okay with just touching. He needed more, just like Sam needed more, and he fumbled with the lube, spreading it over his fingers urgently.

He pressed his fingers against Sam’s entrance, slipping two into him easily. Dean knew that fingering Sam open was a moot point now, he had seen his brothers fingers inside himself what seemed like hours but couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes ago. But  he would never risk hurting his brother, and the look on Sam’s face, the gasp that left his mouth, the way his hips pushed back against Dean’s fingers, it made everything worth it. Dean pushed further inside, sliding another finger in as he did, twisting and turning until Sam was arching up against him, Dean’s name falling from his mouth in a stream of curses and prayers. His fingers dug into Dean’s shoulders, and Dean reveled in the feel, in the sound of his brother begging him for more, for everything.

Dean pulled his hand away, amazed as he did so by the whine that left Sam’s lips. He pressed his lips to Sam’s once again, reassuring his brother as best he could that he was still there, that they were still together, that there was nothing in this world that could break them apart, and Dean fumbled again for the lube. He spread it over himself, the coldness not even penetrating the fog of lustful heat that surrounded the two of them, and then Dean was there, pressing against Sam.

They both froze. For a long second, a minute, they just stared at one another, Dean suddenly oh so aware of the line they were crossing, and he examined his brother for any hint of doubt, unwilling to cross that line without some sign from Sam that he needed this just as much from Dean. Sam stared back, an echo of Dean’s emotions running across his face, and then, ever so slightly, he tilted his hips up. Dean rubbed against him slightly, pressing inside just a little, and everything broke and came together again.

The next thing he knew, Dean was inside Sam. The moan was loud, it filled the room and his head, and Dean couldn’t have said whether it was Sam’s or his own, or both, but he loved it all the same. Dean felt his brother wrapped around him, the warmth and heat pulling him in, his Sammy’s face below him, head tipped back in ecstasy. He leaned down, pressing his lips to Sam’s neck as he began to move.

Dean had a technique to sex, he always had. It worked with women, he knew exactly how to please a girl in bed. It didn’t matter with Sam. He wanted to go to slow, to make it last, but he couldn’t, he could hardly control himself as he rocked his hips against his brothers, and if the way Sam was pushing back was any indication, he couldn’t either.

They clung to each other, hands and legs and mouths grabbing and touching everywhere they could reach, pulling each other closer until nothing could possibly get between them. Dean barely had enough room to pull his hips back far enough to thrust into his brother, but he didn’t care, and if the way Sam’s fingers were digging into his back, and his body arching up into Dean’s was any indication, Sam didn’t care either. Dean’s mouth found Sam’s neck, mouthing and biting at the skin there, smothering the moans that fell from his own lips with his brother’s skin, all the while listening to the sounds Sam was making. He didn’t realize that he was marking his brother until he lifted his head enough to move to the other side of Sam’s neck and saw the bruising skin where his mouth had been.

The sight only spurred Dean on further, and his mouth dropped back to Sam’s neck. Somewhere in the back of Dean’s mind, he realized he hadn’t locked the door, hadn’t secured the room. He was a hunter, he knew better, he couldn’t afford to forget everything else and forget the danger that always lurked, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered, nothing but the feeling of Sam’s fingers digging into his back, the long legs wrapped around his waist, the taste of skin under his mouth and the tightness of Sam surrounding him where they were joined together. The thoughts of ghosts and demons were gone before they had even penetrated Dean’s Sam-filled mind.

They weren’t going to last. Dean could feel his orgasm approaching fast, pressure building up inside him so much quicker than usual, everything so much more amazing because it was Sam instead of some nameless girl. It was Sam right there with him, pressing against him, moving with him. It was Sam's moans and gasps and quiet little breaths that filled Dean's ears, spurring on Dean's own moans, Sam's hands gripping him tight, bruising at his hips where he was clinging as though Dean would run away the second he let go. Dean didn't care, he was gripping back just as tightly, clinging to his brother desperately as he thrust into Sam. He could feel Sam's dick pressed against him, and he managed to pull a hand away from Sam's shoulders, running it down all of the skin of Sam's chest and stomach until he could wrap his fingers around Sam's cock, gripping his brother tightly as Sam moaned out, arching up into his older brother.

They moaned together, mouths pressed together in an imitation of a kiss, the best they could do when neither could catch their breath and they were both too focused on touching to spare the brainpower for kissing. Dean thrusts harder, pressing into his brother as he much as he could as he felt his orgasim approaching, holding it back only out of desperation, refusal to leave Sam hanging.

Sam's fingers dug into his back, and a low moan escaped him, a sound Dean recognized from years of listening to Sam jerk off behind bathroom walls and closed doors. Closer, it sounded so much better, so beautiful and primal that Dean couldn't resist pressing his mouth to Sam's neck even as he stroked his cock, knowing that Sam was close.

"Dean!" Sam's voice reached his ears, the sound so close to Sam screaming for him to watch out during hunts, but so different now, coated with love and lust and joy and ecstasy. A second later, Dean felt Sam arching into him again as he came. Dean could feel the warmth of Sam's release on his fingers, the way Sam's ass tightened around him, and he couldn't help the moan that escaped him, his hips developing a mind of their own as they thrust erratically into Sam

"Sammy," Dean managed, before he was coming as well, pressing as close to Sam as he could as he cried out his release, spilling into his younger brother. Sam's fingers gripped him tightly, and Dean  knew he was gripping back just as harshly.

They lay together for a long moment, both breathing harshly. Dean kept his face pressed to Sam's shoulder until he managed to catch his breath, and then he slowly pushed himself up onto his elbows to look down at his little brother. His breath immediately caught in his throat again at the sight of Sam, cheeks red and chest still heaving as he lay boneless under Dean, a shy look on his face as he met his older brother's eyes.

Dean didn't say anything, couldn't think of anything to say that could even come close to expressing how he felt in that moment, so instead he leaned down, pressing his mouth to Sam's mouth gently, slowly, completely different from the desperation of before, and yet somehow all the more meaningful. Sam kissed back immediately, and for a long moment, they were content to just lay there, kissing.

Eventually, they pulled away from each other, each heading to the bathroom just long enough to clean up before collapsing back into bed together, arms and legs intertwined in a way that had been forbidden during the many times they had shared a bed throughout their lives. Sam's head found it's way to Dean's shoulder, and they slept close together, letting the familiar sound of each other's breathing send them to sleep.

Sam woke first the next morning, as always, and Dean woke later to the sound of the shitty motel coffee pot beeping it's welcome. He sat up in bed, smiling as he saw Sam sitting at the table, shirtless, next to the now warm beer and keys that Dean had left out. A mug of coffee sat next to Sam's left hand, a matching one across the table for Dean when he got up. Dean already knew that his would be plain, black as night, while Sam prefered his with sugar and cream. A newspaper was held in Sam's hand, a red Sharpie in the other as he scanned the paper for cases.

It looked like any other morning during the montage of motels that was their lives, the background ever changing as the two of them stayed the same. And yet today, Sam's skin was marred not with the cuts and bruises of the latest hunts, but with the marks Dean had pressed into that skin with his mouth, the bruises he had shaped with his fingers. It was the same as ever, and yet different.

Dean watched, propped up on one arm, as Sam recognized the feeling of eyes on him and turned, meeting Dean's gaze steadily. His eyes roamed over Dean's form, still naked underneath the covers that pooled around his waist, and Dean wondered vaguely how same-and-different he must look to Sam.

They stared for a moment longer, before Sam turned away, saying something about a case and a long drive and they needed to get going, and Dean, get your ass up out of bed so we can go already, and then Sam was headed to the bathroom, stopping to throw Dean's jeans at him like he had done thousands of times in their lives.

Then he paused, looking down at Dean in bed, and he moved closer. He kept one foot on the floor, dropping the other knee onto the bed to brace himself as he leaned over Dean, a smile on his face. He leaned down, his fingers touching Dean's shoulder, and he pressed his mouth gently against Dean's, almost timidly. Dean kissed back immediately, reaching up to drag his fingers through Sam's hair. They kissed for a long minute, and then Sam was standing again, telling Dean to quit wasting time as he headed to the bathroom.

A smile on his face, Dean slipped out of bed, dragging on his boxers and jeans as he made his way over to the table. He grabbed his coffee, sipping at it as he packed up his things, moving around Sam through the ease of years of practice as Sam came out of the bathroom to pack as well. When they were both ready, they headed out to the car without a word, tossing their bags in the back seat. Sam climbed in as Dean took a minute to drop the beer in the cooler so they could drink it later, before he climbed in beside Sam.

Turning the key, Baby roared to life, ACDC filling the air as the stereo turned on. Next to him, Sam made the same comment about Dean's taste in music that he'd been making for the past fifteen years. Dean replied as he always did as he pulled out of the parking lot and onto the open road, letting the familiarity of the morning settle in his system.

As Sam's fingers suddenly found his across the seat, Dean couldn't help but grin, even as he gripped Sam back.  


End file.
